Ultimate Elementum {RP}

Ezio Auditore

Ezio Auditore

Requiescat in pace, you bastard!
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The Ultimate Elementum
​

The Six Elements of Eternity. Fire, Water, Earth, Air, Light and Dark. Once they were revered as the building blocks for all creation until many thousands of years ago, when they were stripped from Earth by an unknown entity simply known as The Ultimate. As Common Knowledge turned to Legend and from then to Myth, all memory of the Six Elements were erased from history, regarded simply as a story to tell children.

In the Land of Lucarum, a war that has raged for centuries finally comes to a close with a final, bloody battle. Two warring Kingdoms, the Kingdom of Gallacar who believed they were the rightful owners of this once beautiful continent and the Kingdom of Cornithia who ruled justly and wisely for many millennia’s, fought their battles for dominance of the Land.

As Cornithia loses it’s final battles against the Gallacarians, the final Cornithian soldiers struggle to survive as the remaining Gallacarian soldiers sweep the field, killing all those who remain alive. This is where our story begins…

~~~~~

All that could be heard was the sounds of fire crackling nearby, created by the explosions of gunpowder bombs. Bodies were littered everywhere after a great battle that ended a war had finished. All that remained now was for the victors to mop up any remaining soldiers who continued to put up a fight. In the distance, away from the masses of bodies where only a few who were killed in the early hours of the battle, lay a young, red-haired man. His back rested on a large outcrop and his chin rested on his chest, he was completely unconscious, struck by a foul blow to the head early in the battle. He remained this way for several more minutes until a weak wind blew into him, stirring him from his forced slumber. He groaned as he came to, his eyes still closed but the rest of his features showed pain.

Markus groaned loudly as he put his gauntleted hand onto the ground and pushed himself up, using the outcrop to steady himself. The plated armour on his chest was dented inwards, sticking into his chest slightly making it hard for him to breathe. He quickly undid the straps and allowed it to fall to the ground, allowing him to breathe. The shoulder guard was on his left shoulder was fine, despite preferring to be rid of the armour he knew that even a scrap piece of metal could easily save his life, and it had the emblem of the Cornithian Emblem on so it should help allies recognize him. Markus finally raised himself to his full height and stretched his muscles, trying to get rid of the stiffness that had seeped into them during his unconsciousness.

“I can’t believe I got knocked out so early.” Markus moaned, rolling his right arm to remove the aching from his shoulder. He quickly spotted what he knew was his blade from the ground near where he was laying and sheathed it in it’s sheathe across the back of his waist. He opened the satchel on the side of his waist and took out the scarf he cherished as a memento. He wrapped it loosely around his neck, throwing the ends behind his back and lifting it so it covered the bottom half of his face slightly. “I’d best get moving, I need to find out what happened.” He muttered this to himself, his head still throbbing so he couldn’t be bothered to think, knowing it’d probably just hurt. He rested his right hand on the hilt of his blade and looked out towards the rocky field, knowing that if anyone was still around they’d be over the rock hill to the north.

He quickly set off forward, staying near cover just in case he ran into any enemies. It was evident from the carnage that the battle had gone on for hours, Markus wondered if it was over and if it was then who won. He finally got to the top of the hill but he heard something nearby and as such ducked down, crawling the rest of the way to see over the hill and down into the ravine where most of the fighting will have taken place. The sight he saw was terrible. To the far north, a tall pile of corpses were being burnt and small groups of soldiers roamed the field.

Markus gasped as he saw some soldiers checking the bodies of their enemies by simply stabbing them with the business ends of their spears. Disgusting, Markus thought to himself, unable to tear his eyes away from the brutality. “Hey! We got a live one over here!” One of the soldiers shouted, Markus cursed, thinking he had been caught but he was surprised when he suddenly saw a soldier in armour similar to his own was dragged out from behind some rocks.
“Please! No! I’ve surrendered, please don’t kill me!” He sobbed. He was a very young boy, appearing to be at least two years younger than Markus. They didn’t even check people’s ages anymore to see if they could join. The soldiers threw him forwards, the boy landing against a rock. The soldiers laughed at his pleas and one of them took out his sword.

“Shall I make it quick? Or let him suffer a lil’?” The soldier laughed loudly, pointing his blade at the soldier’s neck. The others laughed at this comment, egging the soldier on. “Hehe, I’ll let him go quick.” He said as he raised his blade high into the air. Markus was too fast as he reacted though, drawing his blade and sprinting down the hill, jumping off a rock and landing in front of the soldier as he bought the blade down. It was instantly blocked however by Markus’ expert hand and in one deft movement he kicked the soldier away.

“C-Captain!?” The boy exclaimed in surprise. Captain? Markus thought to himself, yeah, that’s right, I was field promoted in our last battle. The soldiers roared in anger as they caught their ally and steadied him on his feet.

“Get out of here kid!” Markus shouted as he held his blade in a defensive stance, ready for when the soldiers attacked. The young boy complied, scrambling up from the ground and running from the battle, heading the way Markus came from. The soldiers glared menacingly, all readying their own weapons of spears and blades. Markus didn’t like the look of this battle, he was outnumbered severely as more soldiers began to realise there was a resistor in their midst.

“You made a big mistake kid,” One of the soldier grinned, his helmet covering the top half of his face so his eyes were hidden behind small slits. The one who attempted to kill Markus’s ally charged forwards, blade in the air but Markus was quick to react. Dodging sideways as the blow fell, he slipped his own blade into the side of his enemy, killing him almost instantly, letting him fall to the ground as he took out his blade.

Markus laughed, spinning his blade into a defensive position once more. “You can’t get me that easily assholes.” He grinned at them all, cursing inside his own mind as the other small groups of soldiers began to walk towards them, spears and blades at the ready. He had to somehow escape or he’d be killed soon. The one with a spear charged forward, point aiming towards Markus’ stomach but once again Markus was too fast, dodging left this time he brought his blade up once more, slicing it into the man’s neck. He fell back, a horrific gurgling noise escaping his mouth as the final moments of life escaped him.

The other groups of soldiers had arrived now and without even giving Markus a chance to rest, they charged forwards, blade at the ready in a more suitable position that the swordsman earlier. Markus barely dodged the first blade, reacting too late however as the second blade cut into the top half of his left arm. He cursed as he shoved the end of his blade into the nearest soldier, killing him instantly and then kicking the corpse away so he could defend himself from another blade that had appeared from nowhere.

Markus jumped backwards as a spear end trusted at him, narrowly avoiding being skewered by it’s end. Markus spotted a chance to get away, if only for a short while and killed the soldier to the left of him simply by stabbing him in the chest and throwing his body at his comrades. He rolled away from the soldiers, using the momentum from throwing the body to aid him but swore as he felt a considerable pain in his right arm, causing him to drop his blade. He quickly realized the source of the pain as an arrow stuck out of his forearm, gritting his teeth he pulled the arrow out and threw it to the ground. He quickly grabbed his blade and ran for the nearest cover, the soldier’s still following him and arrow’s appearing from nowhere.

“Doesn’t look good, Markus.” Markus muttered to himself, he was wounded and if he tried to run he would just be shot through the back with an arrow. It didn’t look good at all. The soldiers arrived once more and Markus quickly threw himself backwards as a spear trusted at him once more. He charged around it and stabbed the man through the chest, not realising another soldier had snuck behind. Markus heard a noise and pulled out his blade, spinning around to defend himself but did it far too late. It a single painful moment the soldier’s spear had slipped into the centre of Markus’ torso.

Despite the pain, Markus broke the spear with his blade and brought up his blade to kill the man by slicing his neck. He succeeded but the damage had been dealt. Markus stumbled forwards, the soldiers smirking as he fell to one knee, he pulled the end of the spear from his chest but the pain was too extreme and he dropped his blade. Blood began to drip down the sides of his mouth, his lungs beginning to fill with blood.

His vision blurred as he slumped forward onto the ground and eventually, everything went black.

Markus Fairdale, Captain of Squad Five of the Cornithian Army Regiment Malderes, had died.
 
John Hunter and his forces were forced to make a tactical withdrawl from the field. The Gallacaran military was still unstoppable, and for the past few weeks, have been performing delaying actions, holding up a superior force so his troops can retreat to fight another day.

However, as the fight dragged on, his soldiers were sapped of morale, and his ranks grow thin with each passing battle.

John was the Commandant of Cornithian Military, and was a part of the Malderes Regiment who had lost a lot of their forces in the previous battle. All they can say was that they fought well, despite not gaining a victory.

A Corinthian footsoldier, ran towards the battlegroup, asking for the leader. "Commandant! A soldier wishes to speak with you! John turned around and saw a footsoldier, he was freaking out, as if he were shellshocked or smething similar to that effect. John asked, "Who are you and what is wrong?"

"My name is Franz Freidrich, Maldrives Regiment, Squad Five." The soldier looked at him with nervousness, "My captain, he saved my life, but..... I don't even know if he made it out."

This made John even more uneasy. While he wanted to save Captain Fairdale, their was little doubt that he would've survived and escaped his attack. He tried comforting the soldier as well to try and prevent the loss of morale, "Let us hope he did. I know, it's not much of a promise, but I hope he did make it out."

John then made his order, "All right, we're going to camp here for the night. Tomorrow, we're going right back to it."
 
Kyrie threw down her studded leather chestpiece in absolute frustration.

"Dirt-ridden, rat-infested, earthbound pieces of walking trash!"

Her studded leather legguards came next.

"Never again. Never... again!"

Slumping down to the ground against a fallen tree trunk, Kyrie put her head in her hands and forcibly tried to calm herself. She hated losing. At anything. But especially in battle. And most especially at the hands of incompetent leadership.

Leaning back against the dying trunk, she lifted her head to the sky and tried to figure out where it all went wrong.

*****​

They had laughed when Kyrie entered the barracks where they were conscripting the volunteer army. She wasn't surprised, and couldn't blame them, really. Kyrie probably would have laughed herself, if she had been in their shoes, seeing what they were seeing: A short, slight girl who looked like she should be out on the meadow picking daisies and pining over some strapping young lad who was courting her properly.​

Kyrie didn't particularly care for daisies.​

Raised as a Haari, she had been trained as a fighter. Adept with her Windswords and gifted with her Clan's natural agility, she was a formidable opponent, and like many of her Clan, was often hired as a mercenary in the various battles that raged throughout the continent. And with the recent unpleasantries, there was plenty of mercenary work to be had. The Cornithians were desperate for help. Their centuries-long struggle against the Gallacarians was coming to an end, and it was not a resolution that the Cornithians found particulaly appealing. In short, they were being wiped out. Thus, they were down to conscripting the old, the young, the mentally deficient, the criminally inclined, and anybody else who was willing (and in some cases, unwilling) to wield a blade or bow.​

Kyrie had been in the Cornithian capital - at least, what was left of it - for only a few days before she realized the only honest way for her to earn a living would be to enlist in the volunteer corps. Not ready to devote herself to a life of dishonest living in a dying city, she made her way to the barracks to sign her name on the conscription sheet.​

Giving the laughing men a knowing look, she signed her name. The conscripting officer pointed her in the direction of the quartermaster. She walked in his direction, seeing his puzzled look as she approached. Handing her the red vest that marked her as a Cornithian soldier, the older officer addressed her, saying "I don't think we make armor small enough for the likes of you, lass."​

Shrugging nonchalantly, Kyrie responded in kind. "The likes of me has her own armor."​

"Fair enough. Blade or bow?"​

"Blades. But again, I have my own."​

The quartermaster's bushy eyebrows raised slightly. "Aren't you just armed to the teeth then?"​

"I hear there's a war taking place. Best to be prepared and all that."​

Without waiting for a response, Kyrie moved over to the assignment officer, where she discovered she was to be placed in the 106th Infantry, under the command of one Captain Khamari Brickhouse. The 106th was to reinforce the 104th Infantry and the 23rd Cavalry who were pitched in battle with the Gallacarians in the Jayon Pass to the East.​

Four days later, Kyrie found herself in the midst of that battle.​

*****​

The 106th had caught up with the 104th and the 23rd just before they entered the pass. Feeling more confident with the reinforcements, Captain Brickhouse decided to press his forces forward. As the battalion approached the saddleback between the two plateaus, Kyrie's senses were on alert. There was a palpable sense of mistrust resonating through the area. She could feel the trap.​

Making her way to the front of the regiment, Kyrie overheard the officers chatting. Apparently, they shared Kyrie's misgivings. They decided to go around the pass by climbing a side path to the southern plateau and crossing on foot. Kyrie looked to the southern plateau, then to the northern. Immediately, her contempt for her commanding officer grew. "The northern plateau would be better."​

Barely concealing their displeasure at being interrupted and gainsayed by a subordinate, the officers turned toward Kyrie en masse. One of them managed to speak through his befuddlement. "I beg your pardon?"​

"I said the northern plateau would be better."​

Captain Brickhouse replied, adopting the tone of a schoolmaster addressing a petulant student. "Why, pray tell, would the northern plateau be better?"​

Kyrie pointed at the southern side of the pass. "That side has a tree line. The northern side does not. We know the Gallacarians are near. They know we're near, and that we have to come through this pass. They would know we're not stupid ..." Kyrie paused, letting her emphasis on the word stupid settle in before continuing. "... enough to just blaze our way through the pass. So they would expect us to go around. They're waiting to ambush us on one of these two plateaus." Kyrie turned and gestured to the other side of the pass. "The northern side is a flat, barren mesa, with no cover. We'd see them coming from miles away. Literally. The southern side, on the other hand-" She turned again. "-has a tree line that we will have to pass within 100 yards of. They'll be hiding there, I expect."​

Brickhouse stood impassively, seemingly digesting the information. Then, with a sigh of exasperation, he gave his response. "Mercenary, the Gallacarians have never fought us in any manner other than in open combat. They've never fought like barbarians, hiding in trees to pounce. The northern plateau, if you'll notice, has a switchback trail that is barely two men wide. The southern, an easily traversible path that we can ascend in short order." He leaned toward Kyrie and patted her patronizingly on the shoulder. "Leave the military decisions to the military personnel."​

Kyrie fumed. She was stunned at having been dismissed so off-hand, especially when she knew she was right. There was no doubt in her mind that the Gallacarians were in the trees, lying in wait for the Cornithian forces. Some small, self-preserving part of her mind told her she should slip away from the regiment and save herself; there would be a world of trouble on that southern plateau.​

She ignored that thought. She wanted to see Brickhouse's face as the Gallacarians slaughtered his troops.​

*****​

The trap sprung perfectly.​

The Gallacarians were waiting, just as Kyrie had said they would be. The Cornithians found themselves caught between the furiously advancing enemy troops and the long fall off the edge of the plateau in the mountain pass below. The Cornithians lost several soldiers in the first wave of attacks, but recovered quickly. Kyrie found herself impressed, considering how many of the troops must have lacked a formal military training.​

Kyrie herself was a whirling dervish on the battlefield. She used her small stature to her advantage, hiding among the generally larger troops and slashing out with her Windswords wherever and whenever she got the opportunity. After absorbing the initial shock of the ambush, the Cornithians began to push the Gallacarians back into the forest. They would survive the ordeal and move on. She would have been right and thus able to shove it in the Captain's face, and Brickhouse would survive to press on. It occurred to Kyrie that there were not as many of the enemy as she would have anticipated. Though, in retrospect, that may have been why they laid in ambush; it was an effective way to cover their numbers.​

Suddenly, the Cornithian next to Kyrie went down, an arrow protruding from his back. Kyrie found this strange, as she had seen no Gallacarian archers in the assault. And for it to come from behind them... She groaned audibly as the realization hit her.​

Gallacarian longbowmen were firing from the northern plateau, across the saddleback, and into the backs of the Cornithian soldiers. They had covered themselves in a cloth the same color as the dirt and rock of the plateau. Even Kyrie had not thought of this eventuality. The longbows had a range of 500 yards, plenty long enough to reach from plateau to plateau. The Cornithians were trapped, and were being mowed down from behind. The Cornithian lines broke, and there was a mad scramble to reach the trees. Kyrie removed her red vest, the only item that marked her as being under the Cornithian banner, and bolted for the tree line, dodging Gallacarian arrows and fallen soldiers from both sides along the way.​

*****​

So now Kyrie sat in the forest, alone, weighing her options. She was a deserter from the Cornithian army, not that she cared about that. Nor would any Cornithian officer. After all, she only joined four days ago. No one would remember her. Plus, she was just a lowly mercenary, not entitled to anything other than her weekly pay (that she now wouldn't receive, she reminded herself sourly). She could go back to the Cornithian capital. Though how much longer it would stay Cornithian was up in the air.​

She could return to the Aerie. It was home; she would be welcomed with open arms. But she was a Scout with nothing to report to the Elders. It would be pointless, and hardly worth the effort of scaling the cliff face.​

She could go to Gallacarian lands. Their cities, so she heard, were thriving with the conquest of Cornithian ports, trade routes, and farmland. But she never much cared for the Gallacarians she met briefly. There was something generally... unpleasant about them that she couldn't put her finger on.​

So she sat as the frustration she felt from the battle ebbed, with nothing in particular to do, nowhere in particular to go, but swearing to herself that she'll never allow someone to lead her knowingly into danger like she had with the 106th Infantry. Maybe something would happen in the forest. Maybe something somewhere would give her some direction. She grew restless.​

Kyrie was an adventurer without an adventure. A dangerous occurrence, if ever there was one.​
 
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Careful steps brought the petite girl ever closer to the light. Having hidden herself in the darkness for some time, a sigh broke out of her lips, but broke off abruptly as a wave of Gallacarians ran past. Who would have thought she would be fighting in this manner? This low-down, despicable method which she had just scorned?

Stealing a glance behind her at the silhouette of the dead soldier, she gazed back out onto the streets.

Just a moment ago, she had been sidetracked, ambushed by this unfortunate Gallacarian. He didn't last long against a prepared Alicia, who simply finished him off with a precise spear strike as soon as he lunged at her.

The sounds of footsteps rose once again, as another wave of soldiers ran past. Fear began creeping up, this time, more obvious than before. She had joined the battle fearlessly. Courageous and very much intent on serving the nation, she had foolishly fashioned herself as a heroine who shall save the capital- single-handedly, if need be. To think she never joined the army in time, and actually arrived when the Gallacarians had relatively captured the city.

"Kill any of those Cornithian bastards if you spot them!"

Backing down from the streets, she crouched lower, hiding out of sight. Fortunately for her, despite the daylight, the alley led to a dead end, which was the towering walls of the cities- which casted a sheltering for the girl. I can't stay here any longer though, she thought to herself.

I have to join those armies which left for the plateau, or they'll find me sooner or later... And kill me!

Alicia gulped.

Why did I leave my parents in this manner?

Melancholy intoned the thought, but she pushed it aside. Yet another wave of soldiers went by, but for Alicia, she was not going to back away so cowardly this time. "If I had left my parents so defiantly for this purpose, I'm not going to go back until this war is won!" She muttered. Sure enough, it got their attention.

Too late for regrets, she thought to herself, dashing out as she did so.

***

With a skillful strike, the spear lodged itself into the hapless soldier, ending his miserable life. However, this was only one victory amongst the many Alicia would have to gain before she would be really out of danger. A chilly wind stirred, and the girl's hands trembled as she stared back at about three more burly soldiers in front of her.

Compared to the countless that she had killed before this, three seemed like a paltry number, but the fact remains that she had already defeated many. Drained of energy, she knew full well how little combat capability she had. Though, she was willing to take a gamble.

"HA. You big bastards," She began, faking a triumphant smirk. "Do you really think you can win me?"

Their size did not represent their courage indeed, as they glanced over at each other for reaffirmation. "You know you will die right here, even with the three of you. Just give it up already."

As if things would go her way. Not bothering to respond to her words, the soldiers leaped forward, their swords raised. Left with little choice, Alicia sidestepped, her spear lunging forth as soon as both foots were on the ground. Thankfully, it hit a soldier in the neck, bringing about his bloody death. Removing it quickly, she didn't bother to bear witness to the gruesome scene as blood spilled out from the wound.

Her focus was on where it should be. The two other soldiers had split up and decided on flanking the girl.

This should be easy, she thought to herself.

But I'll best be off.

Indeed, she had made the best decision. Her arms were weary, and even without actually swinging the weapon about, she could already feel the fatigue gathered around her biceps- and triceps, for that matter. Turning away, she sprinted off, towards South Plateau.

When she had arrived, the victor, the Gallacarians, had already emerged from the battle at the Plateau. Bodies littered the fields and the smell of death filled the air. Yet the girl knew her body would be one of those there should she not escape now. "So much for the country!" She hissed, dashing towards the tree line.

Just a bit more, and I'll be able to lose them in the forest! Catching a glimpse over her shoulders, an exasperated expression took over as soon as she realized they were still hot on her trail. Unluckily for the girl, while she did so, she ran right into a tree. Falling back onto the ground, she hurriedly rolled over, spear raised defensively.

The soldiers approached, an amused smile on their faces- or rather, an evil smile. "Stop smiling, you bastards. Oh right, maybe it'll be best for you to die, smiling." Alicia taunted, leaping forth in an attempt to pierce the soldier closest to her. Regrettably, the weak arms held little to no strength in it, and the solider merely stepped aside to avoid being struck.

"You..."

She didn't get to finish the sentence. All so suddenly, she felt a sharp pain at her torso area. All so suddenly, she could actually see a blade stick out of her.

The breath of the soldier behind her wasn't exactly the best olfactory introduction as well. The strength drained from her arms at an amazingly quick pace, and her hands lost grip of the spear which had served her for the entire battle thus far. She could also feel the blood oozing out, wetting her clothing. Throw in the excruciating pain with every beat of her heart, it wasn't the best sort of feeling to experience.

The soldier chuckled menacingly," You were going to kill us eh?"

The blade was removed from Alicia, roughly. Oozing became spilling as her life fluids streamed out of the wound. Her legs could no longer hold her weight, and they crumbled as she fell flat on her back. Staring dazedly at the clear blue sky, an almost inaudible sigh escaped her lips.

The two soldiers joked amongst themselves, guffawing loudly, scornfully at the girl. Weak arms struggled to get her back up, but could only move her oh-so slightly.

Perhaps, this is the end?

A light gust of wind forced the girl to shiver from the cold it brought with it. The warm liquid that flowed out of her felt ever warmer- an indication that her body was starting to get real cold. The thought brought tears to her eyes as she stared fixedly at the sky.

Sorry, Mother.. Father

The skies blurred, and as she mouthed those thoughts aloud, her eyes slammed shut. It was then, she died.
 
Huff...Huff..Huff...God damnit.... Shit!

The curses and cuss were an oddity from Carita's mouth. Training had often taught her that words in combat was a waste of strength, which could be used to thrust a weapon into an opponents throat. Then again, this was not normal combat....

~~~~~

She knew the Gallacarian Black Ops were meticulous. They, of course had actually sent agents to verify that none of the failing squad had survived or left any trace that may be identifyable to the enemy. She did not even get two days advantage when she saw pursuing agents.

Ten agents.... possibly four Knives and six fledging....not good.

To have sent four senior member of her caste meant that they want her dead. Badly. The circumstances could not be anymore dark. Just as she was about to dash off, a slight detail caught her eye.

Perfect.

*****
​

Two o'clock! Target sighted.

Osprey spotted Eagle sprinting towards the rocky ravine and instantly gave orders for pursuit. He did not understand why six novices were given to him to take along, but he was not about to let the rougue agent get away. If she managed to escape, it would tarnish their caste's reputation.

Raven, Vulture. With me. Hawk, stay with the fledgings.

Instantly, the three accelerated off, leaving the remaining seven in the dust. By observation, Osprey had deduced that Eagle was unaware of their pursuit. Grudgingly, he had to admit, she was the one with the slightest feet in the Corp. Had she wanted to lose them, it would not have been overly difficult.

Within a minute, the ravine mouth stretched open and all three sprinted into the rock strewn pathway. Like hunting animals, all three assassins vaulted the obstacles with ease. Osprey led the trio over a slightly raised slab of rock that gave them a ramp to jump off. Osprey and Raven vaulted first, landing easily 5 meters from where they jump. Vulture was not so lucky.

*****
Now!

With perfect timing Carita thrust upwards at the lip of the rock from underneath in its shadow. She knew Vulture. He had a slightly irregular running pattern which caused a slight pause in leaps. It did not affect operations to any extent, but it was enough. Her rapier pierced deep up his groin, puncturing his heart before slicing outwards, splitting open Vulture. Before the corpse had fallen to the ground, three knives flew from Carita's hand. Two embedded themselves into the back of Raven, while the third, the critical strike was parried just in time.

Tch, no matter...

No respite was given. In a matter of seconds, Carita was onto them, both rapiers out. Take out the weaker links was always the way to go. A wounded beast was always still a threat. Unfortunately, Osprey also knew of Carita's Modus Operandi and parried the rapier thrust inches from Raven's throat. It was dangerous. Her swords had stopped and have been locked with Osprey's while Raven had an open shot to her abdomen. Releasing her grip on her hilts, Carita drew her main gauche, rounded to the top and stabbed downwards at the crossed swords. All four rammed into the ground, lock in place by the hilt while Carita grabbed Raven;s weak thrust with her knife and side kicked him in the chest, sending him flying whilst stealing back her knife. Osprey, still in slight shock of his swords being locked released his own grip on his sword and reached for another dagger, but was too late. Carita had already dived above the flying Raven and plunged her knife deep into his chest.

Two down...

By now, all Carita had was her throwing knife while Osprey had retrieved his swords.

Take your death swiftly, Eagle, or you shall suffer.

His confidence is understandable. From the noise echoing around the ravine, the remaining seven were almost there. By himself, Osprey stood no chance. But eight, even if six were novices was past pushing it. Wordlessly, Carita charged Osprey. With an assassin's calm, Osprey settled into a quick draw. In an instant, he thrust deep towards Carita's chest. What shocked him was that she did not dodge completely. The strike had hit her in the lower left of her stomach, a somewhat not critical area, and Carita slid down the blade before burying the knife into Osprey's throat. He gurgled and cluthced his throat, but knew his death. After all, he had sent many to theirs the same way with a knife to the throat.

Uagh....Damn....This is... a bit...worse than i expected....

Escape was not an option. Already, Hawk was leading the six novices on her position. Waddling a bit, Carita silently slid the blade out of her and went to retrieve her rapiers and main gauche. A slight smile twitched at her mouth. After giving death to so many, she knew her own was near,

Hahaha.... Come. The least i can for my sins is to take as many of you down!

With all defense abandoned, Carita dove headfirst towards the closest novice who, with cocky confidence attempted a frontal assault. He was rewarded with his head sliding into the cross of Carita's rapier, decapitating himself. Three others launched themselves from the wall for an overhead attack, but three small steps ensured all three missed. Carita jammed her second rapier into the head of the closest novice, dropping her while her other rapier sliced open the second novice's chest. Like all novice, he opted to go without chain mail to lighten weight, costing him his life. The third backed off just in time to hae his throat nicked. Hawk charged in, very similarly to the way she had. It was a suicide attack, planning to take her down with him. Skillfully, bending her waist to the left, the sword skimmed into her clothing, but did not cut her.

See you in a few moments, Raven...

The rapier was just about to go right through Raven's spine when she felt two strong arms wrap themselves around her waist.

Stab her, now! Through me!

Of the four, two ran without hesitation. Their resolve had made them dangerous in the future, but their skills were still mediocre. Both, with little strength, pierced Raven and just managed to puncture through her chain mail. Unfortunately, their aim was a bit too low. Teeth gritted, Carita sliced both throats open with her remaining rapier and her main gauche. As they fell, Carita's eyes blurred and by the time she shook them clean, the remaining hesitant two had launched their strike. The foremost stabbed Carita through the left lung, but mistimed his jump and impaled himself on Carita's raised knife. The last was lucky, puncturing her right lung, right next to her heart. All went darker and the slowing thumps of her heart became louder. Through her failing eyes, she saw the triumphant grin on the novice's face, that he had survived.

*****
​

Dan looked immensely overjoyed and relieved. When they were ordered to take down a rougue agent, he believed ten assassins was overkill. After witnessing the prowess of their target, he was only glad that he had survived.

Haha.... ha! Thank you god...

Dan had looked skywards for but one second and instantly, he felt a tight grip on his throat.

Urgh! UAGH! COUGH!

Fingers scrambled and raked at the hand but no results came. It only became tighter, tightening around his vocal cord and throat. A slight female voice came from the mass of dead bodies was the last noise he heard and the advice it gave never came to use.

Never...look...away...until their head..is rolling....

And in that moment, all five fingers dug into the flesh and pulled out Dan's throat.

*****
Carita weakly stepped backwards, feeling the swords slide out of her body. The dead assassins collpased backwards. Only through sheer will power was Carita able to backpedal two more steps and collapse with her back against a rock. Her body felt cold...but then again, she hardly felt anything else. All colour was draining from her body, but then again, her skin was always pale. Smiling Carita wondered what was to happen. Hell was the most likely choice and she did not try to excuse herself. She had committed sins which she should not have done and she would accept all that God will give her. Pulling down her half mask, Carita took in what she knew was her last deep breath, finally able to smell the fresh air without her mask of her sins.

Here i come you guys.... i said ill be seeing you soon.....

With that, Carita's arm dropped to her side and her head lolled backwards, resting on the rock. Carita died in peace with her face in the open sun.
​


​
 
Soren laid on his bed. Silently. Painfully. He had lost most of his energy making it impossable to eat. His lips had lost color and his skin remained pale. His eyelids felt like lead blocks sitting and resting on his head, too heavy to hold up...

His right arm laid next to him, immovable. It had began to have a distinguished and putrid aroma. His left are was still capable of moving, however his hand remained motionless, making it fall everytime he lifted his arm. it took much effort to breathe. The disease had been slowing him down up to a month ago. He is now bed ridden with some people that he never knew, but they did take good care of him. He had been temporarily left alone for the day, as they had to run their errands for the day. He had lost a energy to speak nearly a week ago. Most people give up at this point and die...He bagan to think.

"This is the end isnt it? At such an age as well...tch...It was a life well worth it though...i saw much of what i wanted to see, however i really wish i could see more. But then again i can now see something nobody could ever truely see and tell everyone about...the afterlife. The end of the journy begins a whole new quest..."

His colorless face began to fade into a still look. Soren was sick, very sick with a deadly plague, thats causes were unknown but it was frequent in travelers. Pain pulsed through his body as he laid still. his heartbeat itself was tired and weary and pain-ridden and fragile. His breathing was heavy, deep, and slow. His breath had the smell and sound of a painfull death. Whenever he opened his eyes it was clearly visable what kind of pain he was in. The kind no man deserves.

The veins grow plump in any who are un-lucky enough to catch the disease, yet this was with a slow and wek pulse. Soren was no exception to this. He constantly got hotter and could not cool, making him sweat chronically. His nerves were much more sensative to pain as the sickness spread throughout his body. He felt as if he were in hell as unlimited pain shook his bones...He began to shake. His body had no energy left so this un-controlable shaking exhausted him, however he could not stop...His muscles had rapid compulsions that would not stop. His eyes dialated extremely fast and went back at a rapid rate, repeating over and over again. His already high tempurature grew even hotter as he began to feel all the pain sugre up and down his spine rapidly and constantly. He could not close his eyes and his vision was blurred. A taste grew in his mouth...the taste of his own saliva getting stuck in his throaght.The sound of him gargling and choking was the only thing heard in the empty house...

He stopped...

He laid still...

But not as before...This time...Totally lifeless...
________________________

His hosts came home and found a dead body laying still...they were not surprised, as none have survived the plague that struck Soren...They did not know how to react, so they stood in silence...Then paid their respects as he laid lifelessly still

He had parished...
 
Dashing though the town streets David kept a tight grip on Cassandra's arm, his other hand on the hilt of his sword in case he had to fight. Darting down an alleyway on the left he saw an advancing Gallacarian soldier. Drawing his sword in his right hand he ran forward, clashing blades with the soldier before delivering a hard kick to his chest, bringing him to the floor easily. Before he could slash back with his sword David had stepped on his gut, knocking the wind out of him as he ran past.

Exiting the alleyway David took another left but was met by a wall of soldiers, with a Captain bringing up the front.

"Stop right there! You are hereby under arrest! Come quietly and I promise you will- Hey! Stop!"

Not even waiting for him to finish, David had already turned around and ran. With a group of guards hot on his trail he quickly made a dash for the castle gates, they were quickly falling and had 2 guards stood on either side of the gate. Not having time to fight them he engaged the left guard but instead of fighting he smashed his blade against the guard's, knocking him to the floor before running through the gate just before it slammed shut.

Seeing the guards shout up for the gate to be raised, David continued to run out into the open fields, taking a glimpse behind him he saw a semi-large military force after him. Why were they sending a military force after a supposed murderer? Trying to shrug it off he tried, in vain, to escape his pursuers.

Stopping and turning around he let go of Cassandra's arm, which by now was red and wet from David's sweaty palm. Pushing her back he readied himself for the advancing forces. Holding his sword in both hands and widening his feet he took a slow look to Cassandra.

"Run, don't worry about me. Just don't let them catch you, I owe it to... A friend"

Turning back to face the approaching hoarde David tried to focus, knowing what must be done, he couldn't let Cassandra die. The hordes had now got into range. As two soldiers approached David charged one and neatly cut him in two and kicked the second roughly in the gut before impaling him through the stomach. Then a spearman charged in and dodging the lunge charged in and stabbed him directly in the heart, these victories were short lived however as a group of archers approached, narrowly blocking one arrow the rest of the 20+ strong arrow volley pummelled him into the ground, leaving him little time to blink before his life ended, too instant to even think.

At this moment... David was dead, yet his mind was not on his own death, but on whether Cassandra would live.
 
Cassandra's heart beat loudly in her ears as she blindly followed David through the streets. She absently noticed a sword on his hip, choosing to run on despite her flash of fear. Her arm was starting to ache from being dragged along, and she stumbled every so often, until a soldier came across them. David dealt with him swiftly, barely missing a step. Cassandra cringed slightly as they continued to run, leaving the man gasping for breath on the ground.

Shortly after, a large group of soliders was in front of them, and Cassandra froze.

"Stop right there! You are hereby under arrest! Come quietly and I promise you will- Hey! Stop!"

Cassandra was yanked in the direction they were just coming, towards the castle gates. The gates were going down, and David quickly put the one of the 4 guards on the ground and dashed under the gate with Cassandra. She didn't recall ever running this much in her life, and by the look of the group persuing them, she wasn't going to get a break any time soon.

Suddenly, the pressure on her arm was released, and she blinked stupidly, staring at David.

"Run, don't worry about me. Just don't let them catch you, I owe it to... A friend."

She continued to stare at him for a moment, before thinking better of it and turning around to run. Cassandra could have sworn she heard the sickening sound of a blade running through flesh, impossible as it would be from the distance.

Rather than staying in the open field she had been lead into, Cassandra sprinted for the forest to her right, tripping and falling as she went. Her palms and knees quickly became a bloody mess, and she had an open -and dirty - cut gracing her forehead from a rogue tree branch.

After what felt like ages, but couldn't have been more than ten minutes, Cassandra stopped in a small clearing. The trees distorted everything, changing the way the light looked and tricking you into thinking more time had passed than actually had. She sat on the ground and tried to clean the blood and dirt away from her hands, failing miserably and finally giving up.

Perhaps... a small nap? Just a few minutes, long enough for her to feel well enough to move again. Getting up and walking farther, let alone running, felt impossible, taking far too much energy, and Cassandra stretched out on the grass, ignoring her minor injuries. Just a small nap...

-------------------

Cassandra woke to darkness. Darkness and pain, and as she opened her eyes, she was looking up into the face of a grimacing soldier. He was young, without his helmet as his sword dug farther into her stomach. Her vision began to get fuzzy as she stared forward, barely believing what was happening, and her hands felt for the blade. She grasped it tightly, cutting the soft skin of her hands as she tried, in vain, to pull his sword out of her.

Before things went totally black and the pain in her hands and stomach began to fade, Cassandra thought she heard a small whisper from the man- well, boy, really- standing over her.

"I'm sorry..."

With that, Cassandra Hazelmere's eyes would never open again, her body would lie still. She was dead, despite some very good efforts.
 
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“My Children.” A voice echoed, not within the boundaries of sound but within the minds of the six, fallen young one. They were all surrounded by darkness, only their floating forms being visible within it. Each of them bore different markings, each showing a different but equally painful death. The voice that spoke showed little emotion but carried within it a sort of warm, loving grace. “It has been centuries since I last saw you all, but that time means little to me and even more little to you for you cannot remember it.”

A large, hulking figure stepped out of the darkness, moving towards the still figures. Despite not being able to see him using their own eyes, his figure loomed within their heads. “A grave situation has arrived, my children.” The figure was permanently shrouded in shadow, only his hulking figure showing at all within their minds. “It has been many years since I re-awoke your powers, letting you live dormant amongst humans, hoping that it would never come to this…”

“Your world has been chosen for destruction. Who by, I cannot tell you, for this is something you must learn yourselves. Hm. In fact, considering the circumstances it is very likely you will not even remember this conversation.” The voice of the one speaking seemed to quiver, as though sadness had finally taken over.

“Cassandra… My lovely, beautiful Daughter… The many lifetimes without the power of Earth have shown, you are far more beautiful than you have ever been before. I bestow unto you, the power to guide the Earth once more. May your iron will be used to defend those around you, and strike back at the enemy with no fear.”

“David… My Son… I took your powers from you once before, but for many different reasons… Please, this time, do not lose control. I grant unto thee, the powers of Darkness. May your blade bring swift death to your enemies and may your hand cause death as you will it so.”

“Soren… My Son… We once had many talks of how to save your brother, David, from ever returning fully into the dark and I have finally thought of an answer. You must act as the light to drive away his inner beings. And so I grant unto thee the power of the Holy Light which you must use to protect and heal all those who require it.”

“Alicia, my Daughter of the wind and sky. For years you used your powers to live carefree in the sky, but your heart stayed true and you defended those who needed it without even caring for yourself. I bestow unto you the freedom of the Air once more, let the winds retake you and may you fight for your friends without hesitation.”

“Carita, my Daughter of the Wondrous and Almighty sea. May your power be equal to your beauty and may you be the water that quenches the flames of anger from your beloved brother, for he will need it in the upcoming trials he will have to face on your behalves. I grant unto thee the power to control all water within your grasp and within time freeze those against you in their tracks.”

“And finally, My Son, Markus. Once again, I hail you to take up the mantle of leader and to guide your brothers and sisters once more. Though you are not brothers and sisters by blood, you must treat them all with the same love you give to your comrades. I bestow unto you the Eternal Flames, bring destruction to your enemies and use the flame to lead you to your ultimate goal. But do not allow anger to control you, for if you fall to the dark, then all shall be lost.”

“Now be gone my Children, for your world is in danger. And those that will be in danger for when they awake, prepare to battle with your new but old powers once more. Now I must sleep.” As he said these final words, his image left their minds and with that they forgot every conversation that was spoken, as though it never had. But now something was different, powers within these Children had reawoken. Their wounds had healed, their deaths reversed. They were finally ready to return to life once more and fulfil their destinies.

The Destinies of The Ultimate Elementums.

~~~~~~

Something was different as Markus awoke, in the middle of the battlefield with his wounds gone. Unbelievable anger seemed to be coursing through his veins, his eyes seemed to feel as though they were burning hot charcoals but there was no pain at all. He heard soldiers moving forwards, towards what they assumed was a dead body but oh were they wrong. Without even thing, Markus pushed himself upward slightly, waved a circle in the air with both his hands and sent out flames to send him rocketing into the air.

It was then, whilst he was high in the air that he set alight. His entire body covered itself in flames and his skin seemed to turn into a hardened blackened form. He screamed out in anger, landing heavily on the ground, causing dust and dirt to fly into the air. His voice sounded completely different, deeper and more grotesque than it had been before.

The soldiers in front of him literally shook in their boots, scared for their lives as this demonic appearing being began to walk towards them. Throwing out his hands, Markus sent shot of flame towards the soldiers, killing them instantly as they flew backwards across the air in their partially melted armour. Soldiers appeared from behind Markus but he was ready. In one swift movement he sent his foot backwards, sending out a ball of flame that blew up on contact with the soldiers.

However this had given time for more soldiers to arrive at the front, and they had begun to encircle Markus in a seemingly well-planned trap. This was futile. Markus curled himself into a ball, gathering all his energy into one single spot before standing up again at full height at an impossible speed, this caused the energy to disperse rapidly, sending out a huge wave of flame around him, killing every soldier near him.

With that last remaining energy used however, Markus collapsed onto the ground, his normal form returned to him. He wasn’t unconscious but very close to it. It wasn’t long before he heard footsteps, but he was too exhausted to move. “Sir!” A voice rang out, it sounded familiar to Markus, but he couldn’t tell from where he had heard it before. “Sir! Hang in there! We’re gonna get you out of here!” It was then he remembered the voice.

“Y… You’re that… Soldier from earlier, aren’t you?” Markus managed to stutter out, his exhaustion affecting his voice. His clothes smelt burned and it was then that he realised, his clothes were mostly burnt off, his entire chest viewable.

“That I am sir. I found a camp of soldiers due East and I got a couple of soldiers to come with to try and find you! Lucky we did, it looks like a couple of gunpowder bombs went off here. You’re lucky to be alive, let alone only missing half your clothes.”

“Yeah… Gunpowder bombs…” Markus’ memory was fading, but he knew there was something he should be remembering. It didn’t matter, it was for too out of his grasp now, the only thing he did remember before going unconscious… Was that he was the monster who caused all that destruction back there.
 
John heard an explosion not far from where he sent his soldiers to investigate. The explosions caused the soldiers to panic and become confused. John said, "Troops, stand firm. I will go on ahead and see what is going on." he then told his lieutenant, "If I am not back in 10 minutes, go ahead without me."

Putting his lieutenant in charge, John headed into the forest where he heard the explosion. His sword was drawn, ready for in case he would be caught in a Gallacaran trap.

Eventually, he came across a clearing. The smell of burning gunpowder was everywhere. John saw his soldiers standing next to a person with half of his armor gone. "Soldiers, what is the situation?" He said. The soldier he met earlier said, "We found Markus sir, he's still alive, just unconscious."

John smiled, for not many people survived an enemy assault and lived to tell the tale.

"I'll take him back to camp, follow me back to camp. We'll have a medic check over him."

Picking Markus up in a fireman's carry, John started to move forward back to the camp. As he heading his way there, he started to wonder how Markus could've survived a blast like that. He had so many questions to ask the man, but it was best to let him rest.

John made it back to the camp, with time to spare. He told his soldiers to place Markus in the medical tent so he could be watched over by the medics.
 
OOC: I much prefer a general introduction before jumping in with interaction and such, so... here goes. A bit short though, but gets the point across. ;p







The stench of blood odiously infected every nostril present in this dead valley, making itself known to surrounding lands that on this day, death played a heavy hand against those of Lacarum. Gallacar was not without its losses either however, as Captains and Lieutenants spent the best part of the remaining day gathering all living, able-bodied personnel back to the command point for the briefing of each squadron. As simple as such a task should be, the sheer quantity of felled folk that littered the grounds made traversing quite onerous for the Captains, who found themselves grunting heavily after each step taken over a Lacarum soldier, occasionally giving cheap shots in otherwise compromising areas.

The battle was over - all that remained were a mere handful of survivors who chose to valiantly stand against their opposition despite the overwhelming odds against their efforts; killing but one more Gallacarian soldier seemed to mean the world to these men and women, human and humoid alike. Such behaviour was surprising, but unfortunately for them... not surprising enough for the legions standing against them, ever ebbing away at Lacarum defenses by any means necessary, be it bite, kick, garrotting or impalement.


There would be one of few who stands alone against the tide of such tactless brutality, as brutality cannot lead brutality into effective combat - such power requires intellectual coordination, discipline and rigorous enforcement of tactical procedures. His name is Turel, and he, and he alone, has lived to tell the tale of a thousand wars past, and a thousand more if necessary. Unbeknownst to all but himself and one other, he was immortal and graced with a wealth of magical ability - something which could only be used in discretion. Magic did not exist in this world, and those exposed to its sight were doomed from that moment. Any who bore witness to its useage were mericlessly slaughtered by the almighty General... friend or foe. None could know of its existence... until the Elements arose. Now, Turel and his companion could fully harness that which was hidden for a millennia - against those destined to opposed them. Light, Darkness, Fire, Earth, Water and Air: he feared them not, for mastery over Omni - over all Elements made his survivability comparatively unmatched by humans.

Turel was not human. Turel was something... more. Something dark, sinister and born with malevolent intent. Discord his ambition; hatred his motivation; destruction his goal, and the end always justified the means.




Yes, the battle was over, but the war was anything but. Lacarum had seen nothing. Nothing.
 
((OOC: Yeeehaw. Carefree as the wind. Eh. Just hope I didn't make her moves too powerful. BTW. CassinoChips, I did put Alicia somewhere in the woods so that there could be some interaction after her revival... So... Your call.))

The eyes of the previously dead girl snapped open all so suddenly. Whoever had been observing her would no doubt be astonished, but for the soldiers, her murderers, they were much too busy sharing with each other the last of their jokes. Never would they expect that the girl they had just killed would spring back to life in this manner. With renewed vigor, Alicia propped herself upright as she glanced around.

Her wounds were suddenly nonexistent, and as the surprise sank in, anger and hatred towards her killers took over. The wind stirred, just then, as the anger took control. Instead of the gentle wind that seemed to herald her passing, this one was a gale. A fierce expression etched onto her face, Alicia picked herself up, grabbing her spear as she stood. Meanwhile, the two foolish soldiers could only walk slowly back to the city, still laughing.

The wind gathered around her, lifting her with it. The blades of grass and trees swayed violently. Finally, she roared," DIE, YOU BASTARDS!"

Leaping forth, the wind gathered below her feet, pushing her forward. The ground beneath her was immediately dented with the force of her jump- or rather, the force of the wind against it.

Alerted to her presence, the soldiers turned, and were thoroughly shocked. "What the!?" One screamed. That very same one received a strike through his neck, and spent his last moments gasping for air as he rolled about on the floor. The second had little time to react to the spear, which sliced its way out of the first soldier, into the neck of the second.

Cruelly cutting deeper into the unfortunate soldier's neck, Alicia edged closer to the soldier, producing a somewhat disgusting gurgling sound as he tried to breathe properly. "Too bad for ya." She hissed, kicking the soldier away. Blood gushed out from his wound as he landed, and within moments, he was dead, as with the first soldier beside him.

It was then, the anger faded away into nothingness, just as their flames of life did. The wind subsided, and now, a renewed stench of death re-entered into the girl's nostrils. Wincing, Alicia inched further away from the corpses. "Did I..." She muttered, startled at her own display of violence. What's more was the fact she was alive.

"Didn't I just die earlier?" She mumbled, touching her death wound. While there was no wound to speak of now, the blood from earlier was still there. "What just happened?" She could only wonder aloud, as she stared over to the city.
 
OOC: Srry. Had to get off, so it was incomplete. It is now complete

Thu-thump....

Where am i...?

Thu-thump...

What is that sound...?

Thu-thump...

Ugh...

Carita's eyes cracked open ever so slightly and instantly closed them again, her eyes shying away from the relentless barrage of sunlight. Again, with deliberate slowness as if in caution, her eyelids fluttered once more and this time, did not shut. By now, the thumping had subsided and right above, her eyes saw the sky was clear blue with a hint of clouds. Nearby, small noises of scurrying animals and birds twittering gave Carita a peaceful surrounding.

Peaceful... Must be in heaven...paperwork mistake...?

Indeed it was a mistake, but not of the paperwork kind for heaven and hell. A slight breeze brought an ever so familiar smell of iron into Carita's sensitive nostril. Her head snapped straight and forward in an instant and the scene betrayed the peaceful delusion she thought she was in. Ten dead corpses littered around where she laid four which was less than a meter from her boots. Carita dared not move. A foolish and uncalculated action could expose her position to anyone looking from above on the lips of the ravine.

What is going on...?

In front, in the hands of two assassins were blades covered hilt deep with blood. She did recognised the sword make as mass produced weapons for novice, meaning that was her blood. Yet, with blood residue that deep must mean that they had punctured a vital organ deep, but there was no wound so to speak of.

Odd...

With a final sweep, the assassin was relatively satisfied that the area was cleared. Slowly with smooth movement, Carita got to her foot and retrieved her blades from the pile of corpses, its golden hilts making for easy recovery. It was still fresh, blood still pooling and flies were hardly present. An ordinary person may lament their death, but Carita was hardened to the core. The situation did not suit her weaker side. Uncerimoniously rummaging through the corpses for useful items, she found a good deal of gold, several decent throwing knives from the veteran assassins and the grappling hook and claws that most assassins carried. Hers was lost in the feigned jump, so these would do as replacement. Once all that could be used was taken, Carita has the decency to place each of the ten's sword in front of each corpse, as a gravemarker of a dead soldier. Had she the tools and right mood, a mass burial may have occured, but threat of pursuing soldiers was high. With a tip of the head, Carita made her way away from the ravine and towards the greener lands of Corinthia(?). Her muscles and bones groaned, but with no help nearby, all Carita could do was grit her teeth, lean on the shappy staff/branch and hobble on until the soreness wore off.
 
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There was a flash.

The rush from the battle had faded from Kyrie. That combined with her frustrations slowly seeping away had made her fall into a light, but restful sleep. The flash was bright enough to wake her fully. She thought she knew the direction from whence it came, but looking around her into the forest, she could not be sure.

Moments later, she felt the Wind move. As closely attuned to the Wind as she and all of her Clan were, if it shifted even slightly, she was aware of the change. An average person would have felt this shift, certainly; they would likely chalk it up just to a slight breeze. Kyrie knew better. Slight breezes didn't exist in forests as dense as the one she had escaped into. Only a heavy Wind would have the strength to make it through the trees. No, this was something else entirely. It was as if, Kyrie thought, the Air itself was rushing to meet someone. As if it was being summoned. The Haari Scout got to her feet and followed the Wind's whispers.

They took her parallel to the tree line about which she had warned Brickhouse earlier. It was a few short minutes before she heard a shout. " DIE, YOU BASTARDS!"

The intensity of the shout caused Kyrie to pause in her tracks ever so slightly. Interesting, she thought to herself before doubling her pace in that direction. The Winds had picked up as well.

By the time Kyrie reached the Wind's destination, she realized she was too late to help. But she wasn't entirely sure who she should have been helping. The bodies of soldiers littered the forest floor. A young woman wielding a spear was demolishing a Gallacarian foot soldier in impressive fashion. It occurred to Kyrie that this woman was responsible for all of the corpses. That could make her more dangerous than the bastard Gallacarians.

In short order, the last Gallacarian fell to the woman's spear, and Kyrie felt the Wind subside. "She fights with the Wind!" Kyrie whispered to herself, her voice a mixture of shock and wonder. Any hesitation she felt about approaching the young woman instantly vanished. A non-Haari whom the Wind favored? It was unheard of. Kyrie had to know how she earned the Wind's blessing. Were there more? Where was she from? Was she part Haari? A million and one questions raced through Kyrie's mind, but one posed by the young woman herself gave Kyrie pause.

"Didn't I just die earlier?"

The question confused Kyrie for a moment. She recovered and responded under her breath to no one in particular. "No, dear. You handed out the death just now." Kyrie decided to approach the woman, albeit cautiously. As she came into view of the woman, Kyrie heard her voice another question.

"What just happened?"

A disarming smile on her face, Kyrie took on a light, friendly tone. "I'd like to know that myself." Kyrie saw the young woman look in her direction, but before she spoke, Kyrie continued. "My name is Kyrie. I am Haari, one of the WindWalkers. I saw you fight that last soldier. It was impressive on its own, but what impressed me most was that you fight with the power of the Wind." Kyrie crossed her arms and looked the woman dead in the eye. "You have the Wind's blessing. How?"
 
OOC: Here I go.

The wind whistled through her hair, blowing strands of white gold locks around her head as she walked. Her misty eyes betrayed no emotion as she surveyed the scene around her.

An ordinary city street, abandoned in the violent prelude to the war. Children and the old had been quickly evacuated before the invading armies had taken the cities, sword clashing with sword, arrow thudding into skin, axe soaring into skulls, and shields clattering to the ground.

The armies had left now, the invaders leaving the dead of both sides to be skinned and gutted by the vultures, nothing more than bloodied carrion now.

She ignored the screams of the scavengers as they quarrelled over a chunk of meat,a dn the howls of the approaching wolves who would claim the dead for their own.

And... another sound. From one of the houses near the centre of the dead city.
A trio of survivors. A young girl and older woman, and a man, older still, lying in bed, his emaciated form barely managing the ragged breaths that wracked his body.
A sick one. The stench of vomit and the pungent odour of urine reached her nostrils as she passed, and the little girl gasped as she saw the woman outside.

Avril could not blame her. In her black dress, with her pale face and obscure eyes, she seemed like an omen or envoy of death itself.

The girl shook uncontrollably. Was she another soldier. Was she here to kill the family, who could not leave because of the old man so close to the Other Side?

But she passed on. She was not here to kill the innocent. Those trivial matters were not for her.

Not for Avril Avent Fleur, Mistress of Nothingness and Manipulation.
 
((OOC: whew got one in...well here is my awakening))

Soren awoke in the arms of a large man carrying him. As he had died, it was natural to incinerate the dead bodies of all who died from the hellish plague. He opened his eyes slowly. Everything was blurred and he could not speak, nor moan. He was stiff as he was used to moving anymore, the plague was so awful even when he became healthy again he could still feel stiff. He realized…he could finally feel again. All motion and feelings had returned. His achy body no longer housed pain at all. He felt totally better

“But…but I died…? Did I not? How is this possible…a blackout maybe? No, no way I could be so healthy just yet…how?” he thought in his head

He began to twitch his fingers in attempt to get used to motion again, as he had to feel for his arm, he was so used to it being dead. He then was able to open his eyes fully, however still blurred. He found energy to speak but not the motion or the words. His mind was disassembled from the disease.

“Ah…ah…I’m … uh… uh… alive?” He stated aloud. The man carrying him stopped and looked at the supposed corpse he held in his arms.

“Did you say that, kid?” The large man spoke to Soren

“Ye…ye…yes I … spoke…”

The man and everyone around him were baffled. “How do u feel?”

“I…fee…feel completely better…” His vocabulary began to return and his mind had come back into place, all motions came back. “I don’t know how but…” he was set down to stand on his own “…I’m back…I no longer carry the plague either…I don’t know how so don’t ask, but I’m better…just the way I was before…And damn it feels good.” He began to look around “Where is the couple that have housed me? I owe them thanks.”

The large man carrying him pointed to one house and said, “they are in there, taking care of your bedding so to prevent the spread of the plague.” His voice had an astonished tremble in it. An almost a fearful sound churned in his voice.

As Soren walked, he felt something new stirring inside of him. He did not know what it was but he assumed it was as simple as him feeling healthy for the first time in so long. As he entered the house he spoke, “Hi, I have to thank you for what you did!”

The women tending to the bedding dropped everything in shock and the man walked in from a different room. The man spoke, “But…how? You died, here on this bed?”

“I do not understand it either, but I have come to thank you for taking me in, and I have come for my sword…” Speechless the man handed him Sorens sword. “Thank you so much but I must be on my way, I have wasted nearly a month bed ridden and I feel such an urge to go now and travel more. I have yet to see the world…”

The women could only say “All you owe us is what we saw just now…such a miracle…god is on your side…”

Soren simply waved as he left. While walking away from the town that took good care of him, everyone watched as he walked in good pose and spectacular health. He only smiled and chuckled under his breath. “It’s good to be back…Here I go…on the dirt road again…”
 
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((OOC: A confused response's all Kyrie's going to get, I'll suppose))

"I'd like to know that myself."

Startled by the voice behind her, Alicia snapped over to face it. The woman, or rather, female child, that spoke didn't look anything like a soldier- yet slung over at her hips were two swords. Her spear was raised swiftly and defensively, even as the girl approached Alicia cautiously. Whoever that was, her face exuded an aura of innocence that almost compelled Alicia to let down her guard.

However, her words warned her against doing so. To speak of death with such causality made Alicia ill at ease. In fact, her nonchalance about the corpses nearby indicated some level of maturity- or perhaps, some evil-Gallarcean mindset, to quote Alicia.

"My name is Kyrie. I am Haari, one of the WindWalkers. I saw you fight that last soldier. It was impressive on its own, but what impressed me most was that you fight with the power of the Wind."

WindWalkers?

Immediately, the information that she had studied once before when she was still with her parents came to mind. Rumored to be descendants of birds of preys, these beings are known for their potent skills in battle. Alicia couldn't hide an excited grin that formed. She had always admired these legendary WindWalkers for their ability to walk on the wind.

A curious glance over to her feet confirmed this thought. She was, truly, a WindWalker. Yet, just as her eyes returned to look into the eyes of the other speaker, she was mildly surprised by Kyrie. Staring at her dead in the eyes, her arms were crossed over the other as she asked,"You have the Wind's blessing. How?"

The smile faded from her face. Her last question reminded her about the problems at hand. Just a moment ago, she had killed the two soldiers with the help of the wind- which actually propelled her leap at the two unfortunate soldiers.

"I don't know." She replied.

It was then, the excitement of meeting one of the WindWalkers she had aspired to be sprang back to mind. Grinning, she continued to ask," Are you really one of the WindWalkers?"

Although she had already believed Kyrie was one of them, this question expressed more of her disbelief than doubt. She looked at the girl's feet again a second time.

"WOW. This is the first time I come across with something I've only read in books!!!"

Alicia squealed. "Can you really walk on the wind? If yes, can you fly? How fast can you fly then? Is your home in some place called the Aerie?"

The questions spilled out of her, and she edged closer to the girl. It was ironic that she had just been worried about having to be more cautious in dealing with this stranger.
 
((OOC: Lol. I expected as much.))

"I don't know."

You don't know? How could you not know? The answer confounded Kyrie. She simply could not understand the Wind giving its blessing to a person who did not pray for it... desire it... embrace it... as did her people.

" Are you really one of the WindWalkers? WOW. This is the first time I come across with something I've only read in books!!! Can you really walk on the wind? If yes, can you fly? How fast can you fly then? Is your home in some place called the Aerie?"

Kyrie immediately liked the curious, spear-wielding, Wind-blessed warrior. Laughing lightly and raising her arms in mock defense against the barrage of questions, Kyrie tried to get a word in edgewise. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. One thing at a time. I may be able to Walk on the Wind, but I cannot speak as fast as She can."

Taking a deep breath and chuckling again, Kyrie set about answering the woman's questions. "Yes, I really am Haari, a WindWalker, and we do in fact walk on the Wind. Flying isn't the right word for it, which is why we use Walking. We don't flap our arms like the birds do, and we can only Walk for so long without--" Kyrie paused slightly and visibly winced before continuing. "-- without some consequences. What else? Ah yes. We can Walk pretty quickly, if need be. Faster than any bird can fly. Yes, our home is called the Aerie. And no," Kyrie's eyes glinted mischievously as she raised hand to stave off the inevitable follow-up question. "You can't see the Aerie. Outsiders aren't allowed. For one, it's against the Elders' Decree, and for two, no non-Haari would ever survive the ascent." Kyrie tapped her chin with a dainty finger as she thought a moment. "Although, one who has the Wind's blessings just might be all right. That would be an interesting debate for the Elders."

Kyrie waved her hand dismissively. "But that's best saved for another time. My turn. Firstly, what's your name? And secondly, what do we do now? I don't really have any desire to re-enlist in a doomed nation's army..."
 
OOC: hope there isnt a post per day limit. I wanna get somewhere faster than being stuck in the ravine. Squee. Is your village relatively near where the battles were? If so, ill meet up with ya on the road?

For twenty minutes already, Carita had hobbled on. The blood vessels, pumped by warm blood once more worked miracles in dispeling the stiffness on her limbs. To make matters worse, her mouth was as parched as desert sand. The saliva that had been in her mouth during her death had congealed with her blood and dust particles into a muck of slime much akin to mud. Unfitting for a female, Carita hucked at her throat, gathering as much of the mess as possible into the center of her mouth before spitting it towards the floor. It looked as bad as it tasted, a colour of brown with slivers of red. Still, the flavour of grime and sand was still present. What she needed was water for rinsing.

Damnation....there is no water source nearby... only treeland and flat plains... Ill be damned if i revive from deadly sword wounds only to due excruciatingly again from thirst.

Carita's mouth hung open, her black assassin half mask still down around her throat. It was as if by some mircaulous power that could convert the moisture in the air into water. It was ridiculous. Magic did not exist. As she continued to walk, Carita began seeing a slight mist forming and hanging around.

Delusions....first sign of extreme thirst and deterioration of the body...

She concluded that it was most likely her extreme desire for water had driven herself made to the point where her minds create images and sensations to satisfy her needs.

Might as well....

Opening her mouth a bit more, she walked straight into the mist, eyes closed. Surprising herself, it felt very real and indeed very good. Indulging herself more, Carita imagined the mist solidifying into a slight stream, running into her mouth, clearing out all the gunk and running gloriously down her throat. Even more of a shock was that the mist became solid water, overflowing her mouth. Snapping her eyes open, Carita accidently swallowed, the gunk in her mouth rushing down her throat followed by a refreshing stream of clear water. Stepping back quickly, the stream struck her face before cutting off instantly. Around her were floating droplets of water. Not mist, but actual droplets and globs of suspended water. Almost instinctively, Carita almost lunged and stabbed the largest one, but all she did was sit there in a stupor. After a short few seconds, Carita subconsiously raised her hand upwards toward the large glob and it, as if by order fell and rested in the palm of her hand.

Unbelieveable!

Carita poked the glob with her finger, testing it to see if its sentient. There was no reaction bar a slight wobble, but when she imagined it to rise, it rose to where she had thought and moved to where she had wanted.

This is...unbelieveable... Is this...magic? Is this....MY power?
 
((OOC: True enough. We can't stay in one area for too long.. The story have got to move on!))

"But that's best saved for another time. My turn. Firstly, what's your name? And secondly, what do we do now? I don't really have any desire to re-enlist in a doomed nation's army..."

Alicia pouted, as Kyrie took the chance to pose the questions. She had a whole list of questions she would love to ask, but apparently, now wasn't the time. Feeling extremely secure with this kindly stranger, Alicia swings her weapon to hold it behind her- to remove any trace of hostility in her behavior.

Still, there was some similarities in their goals, and that struck a tune with Alicia. "You were enlisting with the military? I was about to enlist with it too, but was really, too late."

As she said that, she realized just how rude she had been to forget to introduce herself to this person before her. "Oops. Sorry, but hey, my name is Alicia. Alicia Seraphim." She said, pointing to herself as she delivered the awkward introduction. "Then again, I'm not exactly sure what we are to do now though..."

However, a mischievous grin was quick to form on her face. "How about going to the Aerie?"

Alicia looked back to the Haari hopefully. One could tell she had evidently missed out totally on the part about the Elders having decreed against having outsiders in the place.
 
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